birds in nests keep their heads down
the deers’ ears are all burning
tactics are the talk of the land
but a battle takes up so little room
it’s easy to
walk away from the dust
and the clatter, the rot
take a leisurely bend in the river
footsore you’ll rest where the breeze catches up
look high and join with the mountain in laughter
here comes an old poet alone{mosimage}
the empty town in open arms
hardly a pot to cover the fire
only children to meet him
each on a hobby horse
mounted well
and greedy for the wars to come
they hunger for their time
many are cold but few are frozen
words of advice from my uncle
it’s a new year
that’s why the sky has changed colour
the traveler’s back’s threadbare
sandals thin as the pale daylit moon
cherish the memory of spring
on days the frost stays
Lady Liu
was a butterfly
dreaming she was a courtesan
during the rebellion
to protect herself
she cut her hair
to hide in the temple
just the kind of thing
that gets a girl
into a poem
willow twigs snapped
as a gift in parting
a poem
brought Lady Liu
back to her long lost
after the battle and all
a dusty tale
which wings brush by
picture the willow
stripped bare
that last leaf falling
can’t be called autumn
already
the winter
is here
pity poor Han Yu
my teeth fall out
year by year
and one by one
or all in the same night
always the same dream
something like this
as if I were an ancient poet
and dental hygiene
had gone to the dogs
waking I remind myself
how the immortals
suffered for poetry
what a wreck
the slopes of Parnassus are
strange to hear there
the voice of Han Yu
then neither of us
have any Greek
men and women
have mountains in them
that’s what Han Yu’s saying
mountain in me
mountain in you
sacred groves
and children too
come back to the place
where you are one
before you are old
and when you’re old too
and even after
be indistinguishable
from water weed
and lichen
that’s how it is with me these days
more than a thousand years gone
don’t be the wife of a soldier
he’ll come back in a box if at all
then not much at conversation
don’t be the wife of a merchant
or drinker, a gambler’ll hock your family
they all leave the seat up
how much pleasanter life without him
his rough hands
unreasonable demands
how much more even the life without waiting
don’t be the wife of a man
don’t tell me
or
who gets to make great leaps forward?
don’t tell me
women can’t be heroes
how do you think I got here?
I’m the termite in the ranks
and I tell you
the everyday
won’t be cast off
what won’t the starving dare?
they know
the body is all that there is
that
national enmity hurts the heart
no greater sin than solipsism
socialism won’t be in one country
till peasant women
disavow, destroy – not just four –
but all the old assumptions
that keep them
buried alive
rise termites!
make silence
your vengeance
then no one will
even be looking
when the roof
of the temple
falls.